Amplification: A Hotch perspective
by Rabirhek
Summary: A short account "Amplification" from Hotch's perspective; mostly an interpretation of "missing scenes". What does it take to lead a team to save thousands of lives?
1. Chapter 1

**This story is written with intense care to stay true to the characters and to the nature of the show, so if I succeeded, the reader should not expect to find anything contrary to what we know about them. **(That is, except for the bits in this story which may not be exactly as they happened in the show - that is partly a result of weakness of memory, laziness, and a degree of artistic licence.)

**Also, it is my responsibility to acknowledge that every scene and dialogue piece that can be recognized are taken directly from the show, and I do not, in any way, claim ownership of those parts. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

Hotch simply could not believe how frequently Reid got himself into trouble.

Standing at the back lawn of Dr. Nichols' house, he glanced at the glass doors, watching Reid run from one corner of the room to the other, looking for anything about Dr. Nichols that could be of use. The cell phone was still in Hotch's hand, held up. Reid's voice was stuck in his brain, repeating the same sentence like a broken record.

"_Hotch, I really messed up this time."_

Beside him, Morgan was giving himself hell for not paying more attention to Reid. Hotch knew that this had nothing to do with Morgan; Reid should have known better than to stroll into the house of their most likely UnSub, especially considering the risk of exposure to Anthrax, of all things. Hotch sighed as he glared through Reid's direction.

_You should've known better than that, Reid; you should've _thought _before you acted!_

Shaking his head furiously, Hotch tore his eyes apart from the house and took a moment to take in the circus going on around him. An ambulance, people in protective suits, military officials saluting each other as they strolled around, protective equipment being set up – the back lawn of a beautiful old house had turned, in a matter of moments, into a critical management base. It was difficult to believe that the lethal strain of a bio-agent could any moment be released into this back garden and out into open air, onto the lawn where roses were fully blossomed and birds sang jovially. Hotch recalled his own words.

_We did our homework, we're prepared for this__. This is it._

_This is it_, he told himself one more time. He knew that he didn't have a moment to spare for worrying about Reid before joining in the chaos around him and resuming his position as the leader of his team.

His thoughts were distracted by the buzzing of the cell in his palm. He picked it up in a split second.

"Reid, what do you see in there?"

"I see cages with dead animals; I see signs of a struggle right before Dr. Nichols was murdered; equipment's missing. There's a large desk, with clutter all over the surface – but in the corner, there's a smaller desk... It's organized; functional."

"Two different workspaces?" Morgan asked.

"Two sets of handwriting," Reid supplied. "I'm looking at instructions of how to boil lab-Grade broth, sterilize lab equipment and how to transfer spores."

"Nicholes would know all that," General Whitworth mused, standing between Hotch and Morgan.

"He has a partner – maybe even a protegée – go back to the BAU; try to figure out who this partner is," Reid suggested conclusively. Hotch felt a flicker of hope, now that they had a lead.

"Hotch, why don't you go? I'll stay with Reid."

Hotch did not hesitate to shut off the phone and turn around to follow the General back to Quantico. "Huddle all the information you get to me," he told Morgan, already strolling through the SUV. He had a job to do, and all he could think about right now was solving the case.

Reid would be fine with Morgan.

~ * ~

"Sir, we got a name."

Hotch looked up sharply from his desk. Garcia's head was sticking into his office through the door.

"Who?" he questioned, pushing his chair and standing up.

"Reid and Morgan figured out that the partner must've applied to Dr. Nichols as a student, so we looked up local PhD students who fit the profile. The name is Chad Brown; JJ's pulling his file now."

"I'll get General Withworth."

Thirty seconds later, he was walking into the conferance room with the general at his heels. Garcia and JJ had the file opened on the table.

"Chad Brown applied for a civilian position at Fort Detrick four different times," Garcia supplied, looking from Hotch to General Withworht.

"His enployment application," JJ said, gesturing towards the open file. The general looked over it.

"He never passed the pshyc evals. _'Is it appropriate to sacrifice the lives of the few to save the many?'_"

"He answered yes," Hotch mused, his voice tired.

"Everytime," the general confirmed. "Why he never got hired."

As Hotch listened to Garcia's findings about Brown, he felt the familiar sense of satisfaction that he got everytime they had a breakthough. There were always several stages of solving a case, and determining the UnSub's identity was usually the first one. Now they had to find him before he could do more harm. At this point, Hotch would not think of the third stage, the finding of a cure, yet. Things needed to be done one thing at a time.

"Get the address to Prentiss and Rossi," he ordered as he strolled out of the room. He had just walked into his office when Garcia once again stood at the doorframe.

"Sir, they got Reid out of Nichols's house."

Relieved, Hotch nodded.

"Thank you." H e quickly dialed Morgan's number.

"Dave and Prentiss are checking out Brown's house."

"Okay."

"Is Reid out of the house?"

"Yeah, they're hosing h im down now." Hotch could hear the muffled sound of water running, much like a shower.

"Keep me posted."

"All right."

Shutting off the phone again, Hotch sighed once again. He noticed, without any surprise, that the lid of his phone was almost unhinged. He couldn't remember the last case which had required this much cell phone traffic. There was much more communication to be made, and it wasn't even five o'clock. He only wished that they would catch Brown before it was too late... Too late to stop the next attack, or too late to find the cure for the patients at the hospital... and for Reid.

~ * ~

The next round of communication came along the federal line. JJ had poked her head into his office and told him that Dr. Kimura was on line two. Quickly, he followed her into the conferance room, where the generals and Garcia waited anxiously. Bracing himself for bad news simply out of habit, Hotch clicked the button to pick up the call.

"Dr. Kimura, this is Agent Hotcher," he announced, leaning slightly over the machine. "How's Reid?"

"Agent Hotchner, I have bad news and good news," said Dr. Kimura's nervous voice. Though he kept eyes fixed on the telephone, Hotch could almost see Garcia biting her lip.

"We're listening."

"Firstly; Dr. Reid seemed to be doing okay until we got him out of the house; but as we were hosing him down we noticed a cut at the back of his hand."

Hotch couldn't help but sigh. He rested his hands on the table and leaned on. "And?"

"Because the strain was exposed on an open cut, the anthrax affected him nearly twice as faster than any of the other patients."

Hotch could hear the hesitancy in the doctor's voice, and he could almost feel his patience wearing off.

"How is he now?" he asked, a bit too harshly than he had intended.

"Not good. Aphasia and the bleeding into the lungs set in before we even reached the hospital. He's in respiratory distress."

"Oh my God." It was JJ who had softy breathed out, and Hotch watched Garcia's eyes darting madly around the room as though looking for something –anything– to fix this mess. Hotch closed his eyes briefly and breathed out through his nose.

"How long do we have to find the cure?"

"This is the better part of the news, Agent. We've found Dr. Nichols's inhaler at the lab, and Dr. Reid seemed to think it was a likely place to keep the cure in. Our analysts are processing it in the labs as we speak; I'll let you know as soon as we do."

Hotch swallowed. Once again, out of habit, he had to ask the question, to prepare everyone for the worse.

"And if it's not the cure?" he pressed. "How long do we have to do something about it?"

Dr. Kimura's voice was tense when she spoke. "Dr. Reid's symptoms are already in the last stage."

For the first time in a long time, Hotch found himself speechless.

. . .


	2. Chapter 2

Fifteen minutes later when he walked down the steps into the bullpen area with JJ at his heels, not a hair fiber in Hotch's appearance looked any looser than usual. In four minutes of absolute privacy, he had suppressed the fear that had risen in his chest like a monster; reminded himself of the dire situations Reid had gotten himself in before and how he had survived each of them; and strictly instructed himself to keep focused on solving the case. As he had left his office to join back into the action, he couldn't help but inwardly sigh at the thought that he was not that different from the military-men swarming all around him, literally at the position of an invading army in the BAU headquarters. Hadn't Morgan already said once that he could be a drill sergeant sometimes?

And there Morgan was, walking towards them, having just arrived from Nichols's place. Garcia kept fiddling her fingers as she approached Morgan.

"Derek, Dr. Kimura called. Reid's in trouble."

Morgan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He got way sicker on the way to the hospital; he's in respiratory distress."

"Listen," Hotch cut in, his voice cutting in the conversation like a knife. "He's with the people who can help him the most; I need everybody's head here."

He knew it sounded cruel, but they had an UnSub loose on the subway route, probably with a lethal dose of the strain ready to be released. In times of crisis, Hotch knew that his ability to lead depended on knowing his priorities and keeping himself, and every member of his team, concentrated on the task. It was the leader in him that would get them out of this situation, and Hotch was, much to everyone's luck, firmly in control of himself.

_First things first._

~ * ~

_Too much at stake..._

There was too much - too many lives - in stake to let go of self-control even for the fraction of a minute. This was not a serial killer hunting for a specific type, or killing on a spree; this was a very well organized crime, threatening thousands of innocent lives at once. As Hotch pressed onto the gas pedal, speeding up to get to the subway station without losing any more precious minutes, he knew he had to do all he could to protect the ones at his immediate reach first. His team.

"Morgan, I want you to stay above the ground and help with the crowds. I'm gonna go down by myself."

"Not a chance, Hotch."

It was exactly what Hotch had expected to hear.

"Morgan, we're a man down. If the area is infected, we can't risk losing both of us as well."

"We are a team," Morgan put forcefully, unfazed at Hotch's insistence. "We're gonna go down as a team."

There they were, conversing about possible death as though they were discussing a book review over tea. But Hotch didn't have anything to say to _that. _He did lead this team, but he was an integral part of it. And he was grateful to Morgan for reminding him that, on more than one occasion.

As they reached the steps of the station's entry, Hotch couldn't help but recall the unintended pun in their conversation. Here, he and Morgan were going down... as a team. He only hoped that all the members of his team would walk back up in the end.

~ * ~

The final stages of solving a case were the ones that Hotch could actually enjoy. Sometimes, when the situation was too intense, the waves of relief crushing one after another were almost too much to take without breaking down. And _this _was definitely one of those cases.

The UnSub was successfully caught, not one of the lethal lightbulbs dropped, not one cluless passenger of the subway harmed. Hotch had shaken hands with the General almost two hours ago, and finally made time for himself to sit down and savour an entire cup of fresh, hot coffee. UnSub was caught. The Anthrax strain was locked up. The entire case was solved without any leaks into the public. All things considered, Hotch coudn't help but feel proud, with himself, and with every single person who had worked the case, for having reached a peaceful conclusion at such a short amount of time. From behind the blinds, he looked over the agents in the bullpen area. JJ was passing by his office, files piled up in her arms as usual. The case has been particularly difficult for her. Hotch understood; JJ had not been a parent long enough to find a way for herself deal with these situations as a mother yet. It had taken a while for Hotch to come to terms with being a parent _and _an FBI agent; and while he felt symphaty for his teammate, he knew better than to share his own tactic of dealing with things with her.

Hotch had needed more than a few cases to conclude that what kept him focused was to keep blocking thoughts and worries about Jack that might occur to him. The second Hotch let a worrying thought about his son cross his mind, he wouldn't be able to stop the train of thoughts, and soon, his entire intention of solving the case would revolve around keeping Jack safe. It wasn't wrong; but it was distracting - he had learned a long time ago that he had to have priorities and that he had to choose between being an agent and being a set of other things- a friend, a father, or just human. He knew that in his line of duty, being the agent -the leader of his team- came first and foremost; but unlike the military-men he had likened himself to that morning, Hotch had managed to break the rigidity of compartmentalization. Difficult as it might be at times, he had discovered that, at times like this, he could be the agent _and _the parent, or the friend. Otherwise, as he had learned from bitter experience, everything around him fell apart.

The gentle knock on his office door brought him out of his reverie. "Come in," he called wearily, and it was JJ who walked in. Tired as she was, she had a relieved smile on her face.

"Dr. Kimura just called. Nichols' inhailor does contain the cure for the strain."

As JJ spoke, Morgan had appeared behind her, listening in with a frown. JJ continued. "They've already started administering it to the patients; she'll keep us posted about any changes in Reid's situation."

"Good," Hotch said, rubbing his forehead as he sighed in relief. "Good."

"I'm going to the hospital," Morgan declared. Hotch nodded as he looked at both of his agents.

"Thank you, both. You did great work today."

"We _all_ did, Sir," JJ replied with a smile as she turned. Morgan only nodded at Hotch before walking out.

Taking another sip from his coffee, Hotch pulled himself upright in his seat. It was time for some phonecalls.

~ * ~

At eleven-thirty at night, Hotch's cell phone was working overtime.

The day had dragged on and on for an eternity, and Hotch was more than a little grateful that a perfectly ordinary night had finally fallen. He leaned back on his chair with a sigh, closing his tired eyes for a minute. The BAU headquarters were eerily quiet now, everyone having been more than eager to call it a day and return to their homes as soon as Brown was caught and the threat stopped. The unusual silence almost caressed Hotch's tired ears. In the dim light of his office, his chair felt better than the most comfortable bed he could imagine.

He had almost dozed off when his cell phone buzzed on the glass surface of the desk, and he sat upright with a jolt. His frown coming back up to his face, he picked up the phone.

"Morgan, how's Reid?"

"Dr. Kimura says he's responding well to the cure. Not that you can tell by looking at him, though."

Morgan's voice was beyond exhausted, and strained with worry. Hotch noticed that Morgan was probably the one person who felt closest to how he felt at the moment, with all the stress of the day crushing down on him. He pushed himself up from the desk.

"I'm coming to the hospital. See you in twenty minutes."

Eighteen minutes later, he was walking in the quiet, white corridor of the hospital through his teammate with two cups of coffee purchased from the nearest coffee-shop. Morgan's eyes lit up briefly as he gratefully accepted the coffee.

"Bless you," he murmured, raising the cup slowly through Hotch's direction before taking a sip. They slowly sat down on the bench Morgan had occupied alone before Hotch had arrived.

"What a day, huh," Morgan muttered as he leant his head back on the wall. Hotch sighed.

"A little stressful," he agreed, his voice lighter than usual. Morgan snorted.

"Yeah, just a little."

"So how's Reid doing?"

"He's right there," Morgan replied, nodding through a small, private section at their left. The two men rose to their feet and walked through the tiny room. As he had expected, Hotch took in the sight of IV lines and ECG wires around his youngest team member's bed. What he hadn't expected to see was the tube going down his throat. He frowned.

"He's still not breathing on his own?"

"Not yet, but if he continues to respond this well to the cure, I believe we can extubate him in about an hour."

The answer came from Dr. Kimura, who had apparently approached the two agents while their attention was on their team mate. Hotch nodded at her, taking in the overworked, stressed, sleep-deprived face of the doctor. She was probably one of the few who knew exactly how Hotch, and Morgan, felt at the moment.

"You'll be glad to hear that the bleeding in the lungs has already stopped, and his breathing patterns are much better than they had been a couple of hours ago. I'm keeping him on sedatives, which should help with the pain –"

"Pain?" Morgan's voice hardened again. Dr. Kimura's eyebrows rose for a moment before she nodded.

"Anthrax exposure and intubation aren't easy around the chest," she explained patiently. "Also, there's something I've been meaning to ask. While he was in Dr. Nichols's lab, Dr. Reid refused to take any pain medication, insisting that he felt fine when he really couldn't have felt fine. On the ambulance, the last coherent thing he said was that he didn't want any narcotics. Now, I have complied with his wishes and kept him on mild sedatives, but the intubation was quiet painful."

She paused for a moment, looking expectantly from Morgan to Hotch, but when neither of them offered an explanation to her unvoiced question, she continued.

"I will respect my patient's wishes, but..." she hesitated, throwing a glance at Reid's sleeping form through the glass before locking her fierce gaze with Hotch's eyes. "I really believe that a small amount of morphine when necessary will prevent causing him any more pain than necessary. Without it, the extubation will be more than a little uncomfortable."

Hotch shared a glance with Morgan, and saw in his dark eyes exactly what he thought. He shook his head at Dr. Kimura.

"Agent Reid has his reasons, and we all respect that," he stated quietly, hoping that the doctor would get the clue. "As much as we'd like to make him more comfortable, I believe he'd rather be in pain than be given the morphine."

Holding Hotch's gaze, Dr. Kimura nodded slowly, and Hotch knew that she had pieced it together.

"Aren't there any non-narcotic pain-killers you could give him?" Morgan asked, his eyes on his young friend.

"As I've said, I've been keeping him on mild sedatives," Dr. Kimura replied, "but he'll most likely wake up to the pain while we remove the breathing tube, and he'll be quite sore on the chest."

Morgan shook his head tiredly as Hotch looked through the glass at his agent again before turning to Dr. Kimura.

"You do what you need to do," he said softly, to which Dr. Kimura nodded.

"How are the other patients?" Morgan asked. Dr. Kimura slowly rubbed at her eyes as she answered.

"Thankfully, all of them are responding to the cure. We do not expect any more casualites." She sighed. "I just wish we could have prevented all of the deaths."

Hotch couldn't agree more. "We wish that, too."

Dr. Kimura nodded. "Well," she said, looking at both agents, "If you plan on staying with Dr. Reid tonight, I can tell the nurses to put in a recliner into his room."

Morgan was already nodding his consent when Hotch laid a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Morgan, why don't you go home and get some rest? I'll stay with Reid."

"I can stay; I'm not nearly as exhausted as you are, Hotch," Morgan argued immediately. Hotch shook his head.

"Go home," he ordered, but his eyes were soft. "I talked to the Director; you all have tomorrow off. She seemed to agree that you deserved it."

Morgan almost laughed with relief at the unexpected news. "Man, am I glad to be on your team." A moment later, his frown was back. "What about you? Do you have the day off, too?"

"Well," Hotch sighed, running a hand through his neck. "In theory, I do."

"Huh," Morgan only said, understanding exactly that it meant he would be in the office, loaded in paperwork the entire day. Hotch gave his team mate a crooked smile.

"I'll let you know when he wakes up," he added, noting the worried glance Morgan threw at Reid's asleep from. Morgan nodded.

"Thanks, Hotch. Good night."

"Good night."

Neither of the agents had recognized that Dr. Kimura had left their side as they conversed. When Hotch looked up, though, he met her gaze at the end of the corridor at a nurse's desk. He nodded in thanks, and was rewarded in kind. With a sigh, he walked into Reid's tiny room, and lowered himself on the visitor's chair.

"You know, Reid," he spoke quietly at his agent, "for a genius, your learning curve is really not impressive."

Allowing himself a small smile, he rested his head against the hard edge of the chair. When the nurses brought in the requested recliner ten minutes later, they found the senior agent already fast asleep.

~ * ~

_**The end.**_


End file.
